Time Gone By
by Zandakar
Summary: Relationships are hard work at the best of times, with three people involved though it's harder to tell if it makes it easier or more difficult. But the easier options don't necessarily mean the happier relationship. SMBMWW - yeah, you read that right.
1. Home

This is a Trinity fic: SMBMWW, if you don't like then don't read. Warning for smut.

Originally I only intended for this to be a one-shot, but then I realised that I had a lot more story to tell. The chapters will be non-linear, and I won't be telling you what order they happen in; you'll have to figure that out for yourselves. Since this is a fic about a polyamorous relationship between Bats, Supes and Wondy the character tags will be changing each time I put a new chapter up to reflect which of them takes prominence in the chapter. So if you clicked on this fic thinking you were going to get SMWW but feel the first chapter is too BMWW then just look to the next chapter or ones further down the line.

I shouldn't have to tell you this but at some points we will be dealing with SMBM and the glory that is two men gettin' it on!

Disclaimer: DCWB owns everything. No profit was made.

* * *

Time Gone By

Bruce took a moment before climbing out of the Batmobile. His body ached. It hadn't been a particularly difficult patrol but old injuries lingered and fresh bruises added new pains atop them. He felt tired. More tired than he had in a long time. Not since Tim… No, best not to think about Tim.

Slowly he levered himself out of the open door, placing his weight on one painful leg and then standing and shifting his weight to the other stiffened limb. He pulled back his cowl and stared out at the Batcave, cast in shadows and ominous glows.

He closed his eyes and drew in a breath, held it and then exhaled opening his eyes to gaze upon his wonders.

Fuck he felt old. There was grey in hair now; wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, across his forehead and leading down from his mouth giving him a permanent frown. He always looked displeased even when he tried to smile. He should have smiled more, then he'd have laughter lines and his wrinkles would be something to be proud of, a testament to a life well lived.

His joints creaked when he started walking, his muscles protesting at him once again moving. They wanted rest; a hot bath, rubbed down and then sleep. When he was a young man he would have hurried from the car, striding purposefully to the main console. There he would have continued his work, his fight on crime, until the small hours of the morning or until Alfred chased him to bed with brisk concern and a firm healing hand.

_Alfred…_

Best not to think about Alfred either. If Bruce was old then Alfred was something else entirely, though despite his age he still bustled about the manor, still performed most of his jobs though now at a slower pace. It scared Bruce to see Alfred grow older with each passing year, but it scared him more that Alfred's energy made him feel old.

_Warriors aren't meant to grow old._

Diana would roll her eyes at that. She would challenge him, telling him that a warrior is only as old as his deeds make him. Fierce pride would shine in her eyes as she did so, but Bruce would be able to see the concern lurking behind.

Clark would express his concern, and Bruce would see his resignation that Bruce was determined, no matter how old he was, to continue with his war against crime.

Both saw him grow older, but neither ever said so.

Bruce stopped at the main console. Alfred had left him some supper out. He sat in his chair and ate it silently while he reviewed case files. When he'd finished he went to change. He peeled off his armour, checking it meticulously for any wear or damage. His life depended upon the integrity of his equipment and so after every mission, no matter how tired or worn or injured he was, he checked it. Once satisfied that everything was in order, he finished stripping and stepped into the shower.

His ribs were motley of old bruise, yellows, faint greens and the odd hue of blue lingered there. His right wrist was swollen slightly, and his forearm coming up in a fresh bruise. His left knee complained whenever he bent it, but it showed no signs of swelling or any other injury.

His shower finished he quickly dried off, pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms. He walked barefoot across the Batcave, running his hand through his still damp hair. He listed in his mind all he needed to do tomorrow; things Bruce Wayne would be expected at, meetings, dinners, dates; and what Batman needed to know, cases to pick up, leads to follow, Intel to check… It was actually looking to be a pretty light day.

"Lights off." He paused on the stairwell a moment and waited the half second it took for lights to blink off, plunging the cave into near darkness. He could hear the ruffle of bats, the hum of the computers and the rush of water of the underground river that led from the cave to Gotham River. Nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

He made his way up to the manor. Alfred had left the lights on for him, but would have long gone to bed.

"An early night, Master Bruce?"

Bruce actually jumped. There weren't many people who could sneak up on him, but somehow Alfred still managed it. He turned to face his old servant. "Why aren't you in bed, old man?"

"I was. I just happened to require a drink." Alfred stood with his hands folded in front of him. As usual his expression did not betray his thoughts. He didn't stand as straight as he used to, there was a slight curve to his spine; more wrinkles to his face and his hair was thinner, but his moustache was still just as immaculate as it had been twenty years ago.

Bruce nodded. "Fine. Get your drink, and then go to bed." He hadn't meant to but there was a growl in his tone. Fortunately Alfred was used to it and didn't take offense.

He turned towards the kitchen, pausing by the door and looking back at Bruce. "By the way Master Bruce, you have some visitors."

Bruce paused at the base of the stairs, he looked back towards Alfred but he had already gone. Smiling softly he shook his head, if Alfred had got up for a drink then he was the queen of England.

He knew exactly what "visitors" meant.

He wasn't sure if he was happy about the intrusion. Perhaps he was, somewhere deep down inside. His heart beat that little bit faster, his face felt a bit warmer, but he couldn't shake that feeling that all he really wanted was to roll into bed and sleep.

Suddenly his aches and pains seemed that bit more pronounced. Each step he took up the stairs felt like a task. He found himself gripping the banister and hauling himself up. By the time he reached the top his heart was hammering and his face was burning. He took his time heading towards his bedroom, half knowing what he would find.

He opened the door slowly and stepped into the dim room. The drapes were haphazardly drawn against the large windows, they were made of a thick heavy material and should have blocked out all light, but gaps were left and between them cut narrow strips of light. Bruce closed the door quietly behind him and moved closer to the bed. His eyes quickly became accustomed to the faint light.

The covers for the bed were kicked down, the occupants showing no care to their expense. Clark was on the far side, lying on his back. His short thick hair was mussed up as though someone had been running their fingers through it. His left arm was hidden behind the pillow that his head rested on while his other arm was stretched out towards the window. He was dressed in boxers and a get t-short that was pulled up slightly revealing a hint of toned muscle.

Next to him, lying face down, was Diana. Her arm was flung carelessly across Clark's stomach, her face hidden by pillows. It had taken both Clark and Bruce quite some time to convince Diana to wear clothes in bed. She much preferred to be naked, railing against the prudishness of Man's World, but having her lying next to them without anything on proved to be far too distracting, even to Bruce with his ironclad self-control. She was wearing a t-shirt, one of Bruce's own from the looks of it; it was a little too large for her and rode up her legs revealing the curve of her bare buttocks. No amount of persuasion in the world could convince her to wear underwear.

Bruce watched them for a moment. They looked to be sleeping. He could hear their deep even breaths. Diana actually even snored a little, just slightly, though she would deny that she did if told about it. Of the two of them she was the more likely to be asleep.

Clark didn't need to sleep. His body absorbed the yellow sun radiation and any rest he needed was derived from there. That didn't mean that he couldn't sleep though, just that it was a luxury for him though rather than a necessity.

Diana did need to sleep. Unlike a regular person though she only needed a small amount of it. Bruce estimated that she could go a full month without any sleep, or rest at all, before she started to feel any ill effects.

Despite their super hearing neither Clark nor Diana stirred. Bruce shuffled to the bed and sat on the edge of it, his back to the pair of them. His hands rested on his thighs, his shoulders hunched as he gazed down at the floor. It wasn't that he wasn't glad to see them just that it was unexpected. He found that these days he needed to mentally prepare himself for their visits.

He felt the mattress shift behind him, sinking down as one of them moved. He did not turn; he already knew who it was. He felt her body close in; the material of her shirt did not prevent him from enjoying the feel of her breasts squashed against his bare back. Diana's hand slid round his waist, pressing flat against his stomach and sliding up his chest, coming to a rest over his heart. She pressed a single kiss to his shoulder and rested her chin there, her cheek touching his own.

"How was patrol?" She asked softly.

He had to swallow before answering. "Quiet. Perhaps too quiet."

"Hmm." He could hear the humour in her hum. He could also feel her heart beating slow and steady against his back, so unlike his own that was still hammering against his ribs and against her hands. When had he lost so much of his self control that a touch from her could have his heart racing? "You're never content, Bruce. Stop seeing plots in everything. It was a quiet night that was all. Enjoy it."

He smiled and turned to face her, pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was brief. She tasted sweet and faintly of cinnamon. She smiled back at him.

"Stop worrying," she murmured. She kissed him, pressing her mouth hard against his, her tongue pushing against his lips. He groaned softly. She manoeuvred round him, straddling his lap, careful not to put her full weight on him. Her hand slid from his heart to his shoulder.

Clark didn't stir behind them.

Bruce gripped her hips, turning them both so that he could lay her down on the bed. Once he could have done it without breaking the kiss, but those days seemed to be long behind him. She gasped, her breathing that little quicker, her eyes gleaming with lust. It pleased him that even at his age, looking as old and battered as he did, he could still ignite that within her.

How few years would it be before he could not?

She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes quizzical, searching him. Sometimes it seemed like she could see into his soul.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Nothing." He kissed her quick and hard, his lips trailing down her neck. One hand groped at her breast while the other pulled her shirt up. He moved his lips to the hard, smooth skin of her stomach, his tongue trailing up and his teeth nipping. She squirmed beneath him. His lips found an already stiffened nipple and sucked on it greedily. He was rewarded by her gasping, arching herself up against him.

He worked his hand down her body and between her legs, to where she was hot and wet, and this time he groaned at the feel of her as he slipped his fingers into her wet heat. Her hips rolled against his hand as he worked his fingers in her, curling his fingers, stroking her.

He was so hard his cock ached. He found himself slowly grinding against her leg to try and alleviate some of the pressure. All it did was excite him more.

His tongue lapped at her darkened nipple. He bit down, not gently. She hissed, arching nearly off of the bed, nearly throwing Bruce off of her. He pressed down on her hips. If she had been a normal woman she would have been forced back to the bed, but she wasn't and so his pressing did nothing. She laughed, throaty and delicious, and then lowered herself to the bed, happy to let him have control over her.

He didn't think he'd ever get enough of her smile. Her eyes smouldered behind half-closed lids, her lips drawn back and her teeth showing. She licked at her lips and bucked her hips playfully. He got the message.

_Come on, Bruce. Don't leave me waiting._

He steeled himself between her legs, drawing them about himself. He fumbled a moment with the ties for his pants, only now noticing that one of his fingers was cut and the nail blackened by a bruise. He shuffled the pants down his hips and thighs, his cock free at last. He couldn't resist taking a moment to slide his hand down its length, his thumb running over the swollen head. Pre-cum seeped form the tip and he worked it down, groaning.

Looking back to Diana he could see her watching his actions, her eyes hungry.

He shuffled closer to her, nudging her legs further apart. Slowly, achingly slowly, he ran the tip of his manhood up and down her wet slit. She moaned low in her throat, her head tipping back and her eyes closing. She was biting her bottom lip. The sight of it made Bruce smile smugly.

He pushed himself into her opening, her warmth welcoming him, sucking him in. It was his turn to groan, to moan and shudder as he inched his way into her. She was velvet heat, strong muscles that grasped him, clenching him tight. He only stopped when his pelvis met hers.

He let out a wheezed breath. It didn't matter how many times they did this, it always felt like the first time.

She reached to him, her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down. She kissed him, her lips moving against his and her tongue lapping at his. She curled one leg around the small of his back, her hips pushing against him.

He grinned into the kiss, biting at her lips. She liked it when he did that. She liked it when he was that little bit rough with her. She liked it because Clark wouldn't be, even though she so very much wanted him to. But despite the bite, tonight wasn't the night for roughness.

He moved against her, his hips against hers. Their breath rasped out sharply as they picked up speed. He could feel her breath warm against his neck. He could hear her panting as her pleasure rose. He was grunting with the effort. He wasn't going to last as long as he'd have liked. He was close, so very close. He shuddered as he came, his body stiffening above her as he spilled himself inside her. She gripped him close, her hand on his ass, pulling him deep into her. She clenched him, her hips still moving slowly against his even though he had stopped.

He collapsed on top of her, gasping. She moved her arms around him, her fingers trailing up and down his back. They remained like that a moment while he caught his breath. Then he pushed himself up, resting on his elbows. She smiled softly at him. He knew that she hadn't climaxed but she didn't at all seemed bothered by that, if she was then he knew fine well that she'd be demanding that he continue.

"Are you okay?" She asked, running her fingers through his hair.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. You seem distracted."

"Well you are a distracting woman."

She laughed. He made to slide out of her and roll away but she held him there. "No, stay a moment. I like the feel of you."

How could he ever refuse her? He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. "Alright."

There was a snort of mock contempt. Bruce and Diana looked to the side. Clark was awake, lying on his side and watching them. "You two always leave me out."

"Please!" Diana said rolling her eyes. "If anyone is left out then it's me. You two and your boys club."

Whatever moment Diana was hoping for was lost, so Bruce rolled away from her, lying down between her and Clark.

Clark moved closer, his hand resting on Bruce's chest. "You look tired?" he sounded concerned. Typical Clark.

"Tch, it's her." Bruce jerked his head towards Diana. "She's so demanding."

Diana huffed and gave him a gentle shove. "I didn't hear you complaining before."

He looked at her. She was so beautiful. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, thick and heavy. Her blues eyes shone with humour and happiness. There wasn't a line on her face. She could have been made from the finest porcelain or, he smiled, the most expensive clay. She looked so young even though she was hundreds of years his senior.

He looked to Clark. He was the same: young and beautiful to look at though he matched Bruce's age. His baby blue eyes were pure and happy, but in them was the worry of all his responsibility, the concern for everyone and everything.

Bruce smiled. It felt good to have them both here with him.

Clark leant over him and captured his lips in a long kiss. No doubt happy to see Bruce smiling. He was of the opinion that Bruce didn't smile enough.

Bruce could feel Diana watching them. Since they'd first started this all those years ago he had discovered that she was a bit of a voyeur.

It felt right. It felt good. And in this moment, with them both with him and happy, Bruce didn't feel quite so old.

_End._


	2. Listen

_Listen_

Clark floated in the sky, his arms outstretched and his eyes closed.

Somewhere below the clouds the rescue efforts continued. Somehow it seemed worse when it was a natural disaster than when it was some lunatic with a super weapon. At least then he could attribute it to choice, as evil as it was, rather than to ill luck or random chance. Or worse something they should have predicted.

He sucked in a breath and held it. It had been an earth quake. Bad enough that buildings had toppled, but a resulting landslide had buried so many outlying villages that lay forgotten by the country's government, more concerned with saving those with money than those without. He and the rest of the justice League had done what they could before they were chased out by corrupt politicians.

The Justice League was not welcome in this part of the world.

It would never sit right with him that anyone could see help, saving lives, as unwanted.

"Kal?"

He opened his eyes and turned towards Diana's familiar and warm voice. She floated up through the clouds, dirt stained and weary. She had argued extensively with the general of the nation's army before a single word from Bruce had made her back off. Clark knew that she still intended to push the topic, using instead her position as an ambassador to try and force the government to accept the League's assistance.

It would be a futile effort. The world's courts would wring their hands and say that they wanted to help but they couldn't, that their hands were tied. Really they had no interest. They wouldn't support Diana's crusade.

He forced a smile for her. "Diana."

She stopped before him, returning his smile, though she looked anything but happy. "We've done what we can. Green Lantern has over seen the removal of the last of our people."

Clark nodded.

"Clark." Diana flew closer and took hold of his arm, her thumb rubbing back and forth in a comforting gesture. She sounded as tired as she looked, but there was strength in her voice. "We tried, and we helped many people. We can't save everyone."

"No," he sighed. "We can't. But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't care."

Anyone else might have taken that as an insult, as though he was insinuating that she didn't care. Diana knew better though. "No, it doesn't. I grieve for those we can't help, those that will be lost because of sheer bloody minded ignorance and selfishness and greed."

"Hey, hey." Clark cupped her face in his hands and drew her close so that their faces were mere centimetres apart. "There's no sense in getting angry."

She pulled away and playfully thumped him with her fist, smiling sincerely now. "Don't patronise me. And I'm not getting angry."

He pulled her back to him and said, "Of course you're not." And then he kissed her. Her lips were dry, but despite this and the fact that she had spent the last thirty-six hours digging people out of mud she tasted sweet and intoxicating. He didn't want to know what he tasted like, but he doubted it was pleasant.

She wound her arms round his neck, pulling him close, her body pressed tight against his. His arms found their way around her waist. The kiss was long and deep, her tongue dancing with his. It was exactly what he needed right now, which of course was why the moment couldn't possibly last.

He heard it, all the way back in Metropolis; the scream of tires on asphalt, the crunch of metal and the terrified yells of far too many people. He heard his name whispered, bellowed and screeched. He heard the roar of fire and the crack of something large and heavy.

He pulled back from her "I have to go."

She sighed, but didn't protest, kissing him quickly.

"I'll speak to you later," he promised.

"Tonight. At the Fortress." She smiled. "I'll bring some food."

He nodded and then he was gone, streaking through the air and back home.

* * *

Clark's mouth pressed against the back of Diana's shoulder. She tasted salty, sweat shining on her flawless skin. His teeth scraped against it, as his body jerked against hers. He wanted to mark her, to sink his teeth into her flesh and see the bruise that his bite would leave. He didn't though, because he knew that he actually could do that to her. He could easily bite down though her skin, tearing it, and into her soft flesh, taste her blood and do her real harm. So he didn't, he just let his teeth scrape and occasionally nip.

Bruce would bite her as hard as he could, but he'd never be able to break her skin or even mark her.

She was pressed nearly under him, his body half covering hers, turned on her side. Her mouth was open and her eyes half closed. Her face was flushed red, and twisted like she might have been in pain. She was panting.

"_Kal… Kal… Kal…"_

One of her arms was trapped beneath her own body, her other he held down, his hand over hers and his fingers splayed between hers.

He rocked his hips, her ass rubbing against him. Rao, she was so tight! He wondered if that was another blessing of Aphrodite. Her cunt was slick and hot, searing heat that nearly burned him. He thrust into her steadily, his prick clenched in rolling tight muscles.

She moaned her face pressing against the soft pillow. He growled in response, increasing his speed.

"_Urgh… Kal…"_

He moved his hand, trailing it up her arm and then to her breast, squeezing it, pinching the hardened nipple. Her body jerked in response, and he had to pause, nearly losing himself then and there. He laughed breathlessly into her shoulder. She was smiling too, watching him sidelong from one heavy lidded eye. He rolled her nipple between thumb and finger, and this time she remained still but did whine high in her throat and muttered something unintelligible.

He began moving again, slowly building his rhythm back up. She was grinding back against him, her hips swivelling slightly. He slid his hand down from her breast, down her stomach, and down between her legs. His fingers brushed against damp coarse hair, and he parted her swollen lips, finding her engorged clitoris, stroking it.

She cried out, pressing back against him, pushing them off of the bed and into the air. He grinned, continuing his motion, increasing the speed of his thrusting and rubbing his fingers harder, faster against her clit. She clenched tight around him, her body going rigid as she climaxed. His movements became erratic in his haste to follow her into bliss. His cock twitched inside her, spurting his load as he sputtered her name into the back of her neck.

They collapsed back down on the bed, panting, sweaty, and sated.

Slowly Clark disentangled their limbs enough so that Diana could roll to face him. She shifted her legs and pulled a face, probably feeling more than a little sticky.

He kissed her, slowly and sweetly. It always felt right to him to end their love making like this, with a kiss and closeness. Even after all these years he still craved that moment that made it feel more than just sex. It was a habit he had started with Bruce and one that he carried on with Diana.

She was smiling softly, her hand stroked down his cheek. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. Bruce would never let him do that; he had limits to the amounts of sappiness that were allowed in the bedroom, though Clark secretly thought he was nothing but sappy with Diana.

"What is it?" Diana asked.

"Nothing," he replied. He trailed his hand down her side, following the dip of her waist and then the rise of her hip and ass, and then back up again. He cupped one heavy breast, his thumb brushing lazily over the nipple. She flinched, sensitive after their lovemaking, but didn't pull away.

She kissed him again, and they remained like that for a while, their lips softly moving with one another, tongues teasing. Gradually they grew closer, their bodies pressed together once more. His thumb still brushed over her nipple, her hand moved down his body, over his hip and down to his ass, palming one hard cheek.

She pushed at his chest, rolling him onto his back and slid her body over his. Her breasts felt great pressed against his chest. She broke the kiss, and sat back on his stomach, her hands on his chest.

Something was wrong. He could see it in her eyes. They hadn't completely lost the tired look of earlier. He ran his hand up her thigh.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked.

"Bruce."

He stared at her. This was what happened when you asked a painfully honest woman a question. He grabbed her by the hips and tipped her off of him. She landed ungracefully in a heap and stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise and then she burst into laughter.

"What?"

"I'm not thinking of him like that." She gave him a shove. "Honestly. After all these years you'd think that the pair of you wouldn't be jealous of one another. I don't get jealous of either of you."

"Well that's different," he said. "I can hardly close my eyes and pretend that you're Bruce, can I?"

"Perhaps if you tried harder," She said, sliding her hand over his chest. She leaned over him and nipped his nipple with her teeth. Her hand moved lower down his body, past his stiffening cock and between his legs. She gave his balls a quick, gentle squeeze and then her fingers probed down the crack of his ass.

Clark groaned and instinctively widened his legs.

Diana laughed, the sound muffled into his chest. "See. If I brought props you could easily pretend I was Bruce."

"Ha ha," Clark deadpanned. He pulled her hand away, and the captured her lips in a searing kiss. She was smiling again now, and he was hesitant to ruin that, but he knew that she wanted to talk. He settled back on the pillows, one arm behind his head, and smiled at her. "So, do you ever pretend that I'm Bruce?"

She quirked an eyebrow and stared at him. "No, Kal, I don't. I can't, you're too different."

This implied that she had tried. He wished he hadn't asked. He chose to believe that she had tried to pretend that Bruce was him. His male pride was satisfied with this hypothetical answer, as much as he loved and respected Bruce it just wouldn't do if she had tried to imagine it the other way.

Her gaze slid to the side, once more she looked sad, and distracted. She sighed. "Today, and yesterday, when we were helping dig out survivors, Bruce… He supervised."

"Oh." Clark understood exactly what she meant. Bruce never just supervised; he was always hands deep in missions like this.

"And the other night," she continued, "when he came home from patrol, he said that it had been a quiet night, but he was trembling. His heart was racing. The way he was acting you'd than thought that he'd just gone six rounds with Bane rather than stop a few muggers."

"Are you sure it wasn't just the effect you have on him?"

It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood, but she just looked angry. "You think I can't tell the difference between how his body reacts to me and how it reacts to stress? To how it reacts to fatigue? Are you suggesting that his state is somehow my fault?"

"Whoa, hey, no I'm not."

She looked away and let out a long shaky breath.

"Diana."

"We're losing him." Her voice was so quiet, so small, that if Clark didn't possess super hearing then he might have missed what she had said.

"We're not. He's still there."

She shook her head and Clark became aware that there were actually tears in her eyes. "He's slowing down, he can't keep up like he used to." Her hands moved idly up Clark's chest, her nails scraping against his skin, scratching him. "He's getting older."

Clark couldn't deny that, he could see it for himself, see it better than Diana ever could by watching Bruce age on a microscopic level. It wasn't something he liked, but it was something he was prepared for.

"I'm getting older too," he said.

She looked to him and smiled sadly. "Yes, but slower, so much slower than he is."

And she wasn't aging at all. She never would, she would remain young forever. Perhaps that was why she was having a hard time with this. Growing up surrounded by other eternally young immortals could hardly have prepared her for the reality of mortals and the inevitability of death.

"He's not that old." Clark pushed himself up on his elbows. "He's fitter than most thirty year olds I know. So he had a bad couple of days. It happens. It happens to me sometimes. Its better he takes it easy and recovers, next time we see him he'll be back to his old self."

She didn't look at all convinced. Poor Diana, not knowing how to deal with mortality, and only now beginning to realise what it meant to have mortal friends. There wasn't much he could do about that now though, and selfishly there wasn't much he wanted to do about it when there were other things they could be doing.

Clark sat up and Diana slid from his stomach to sitting across his thighs. He slipped an arm around her slim waist and pulled her in close, and kissed her. He was pleased that she kissed him back, thinking that perhaps their melancholy talk had put her off their previous fun.

His cock twitched, caught between their bodies. There was no way she couldn't feel it, pressed hard against her stomach. She didn't disappoint him, her hand slipping between their bodies and grasping his hardness. He broke the kiss, gasping open mouthed against her lips as her hand moved up and down his rigid length.

She quickened her jerking hand movements, and Clark's hips twitched as he tried to increase the pressure, to be closer to her.

His hand went to her breast, feeling the weight of it. He took the nipple in his mouth, his tongue lashing over it, and was pleased when she hissed in pleasure and pressed herself closer to him.

His arm around her, he turned them and put her down on the bed, once more taking her nipple between his lips.

"Kal…"

His hand cupped her other breast, squeezing it, feeling her hardened nipple poking at his palm.

"… Kal…"

He moved steadily down her body, trailing kisses across her flat stomach, pausing at the jut of her hip bone and sucking on the sensitive skin there. She twitched, pressed up to him and he felt her legs move restlessly beneath him.

"… Kal…"

He reached the juncture between her legs, could smell her arousal, course hair tickled at his lips as he pressed kisses around her mound.

"_Kal!"_

He smirked to himself, nuzzling in closer, tasting her. Her hand was on his head, her fingers curling into his hair… Encouraging him… No… Wait…

… Gripping it and wrenching his head away from her.

"Owww…" he gritted as she hauled him up her body by his hair. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. "You were ignoring me. I want to talk."

"I don't." She tried to speak some more but he covered her mouth with his, tasting her words he didn't want to hear and that might have been "Bruce". He nudged her legs apart with his knee and let his stiff length rub against her heated core.

She groaned, her head tipping back and exposing her throat. Clark took advantage of this, nuzzling into her neck and planting kisses. Her hips bucked and he ground down on her.

"Kal," she whispered. "Oh… _Oh…_" He pushed himself into her slowly, enjoying the feel of her enveloping his hardness. She sucked in a breath noisily through clenched teeth.

"You can keep talking if you like, but I'm going to keep doing this." He started moving, his hips grinding into hers.

She laughed breathlessly, "Fine." She kissed him, her arms going around him and pulling him close. She moved in concert with him, building a slow, gentle rhythm.

And she did talk. Her lips brushing up against his ear as he rocked his hips into her, thrusting into her tight heat. She moaned, whispered and made guttural grunts in the back of her throat, but she also talked about Bruce, about her worries and her fears, she talked about him, about them and about the future.

While Clark was impressed by her ability to actually form a coherent sentence while they were having sex, he couldn't help but be annoyed by her ability to form a coherent sentence while he was fucking her.

How angry would she be if he were to put his hand over her mouth?

Her incessant chatting only encouraged him to increase his speed, thrusting into her harder, his pelvis slapping against hers.

"Kal, you're not listening."

Of course he wasn't listening, the blood required for his ears to function properly was being put too much better use elsewhere.

He growled and then his growl turned into something much more like a yelp as she bit down on his ear.

"Diana!" That really shouldn't have affected him the way it did.

He came.

Hard.

He went rigid above her and then sagged; his trembling arms held him up and stopped him from collapsing on top of her.

She had finally shut up, and was now staring at him with wide surprised eyes. "If I'd known you enjoyed being bitten so much I would have done it a long time ago."

"I don't." He slipped from her and sat back on his haunches. He rubbed a hand over his face. This wasn't turning out to be the relaxing night he had hoped it would be. "Diana, I get that you're worried, really I do, but there's nothing we can do about it. I'll be here for you, but this is something you're going to have to come to terms with. Bruce is human, and he's going to age and he's… He's… He's going to…"

"Die," Diana finished. She closed her eyes when she said it and swallowed.

"Yes," Clark said quietly. "I don't like it either, but its life. And really, if there was a way for either of us to somehow prolong his life, unnaturally, then do you really think Bruce would want that?"

"No. I wasn't suggesting that we do that."

"I know you weren't."

Her voice was thick with emotion, with unshed tears as she spoke, "I didn't even notice. I didn't see it happening, it was as though he was the same, young and fit and beautiful, and then all of a sudden he was old."

Clark lay down next to her and pulled her into a hug. "I know. I know, Diana."

What else could he say? She didn't cry, but then he hadn't expected her too. She clung to him though, her face pressed into his shoulder. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

He would never admit to her that he was just as unprepared to face Bruce's mortality as she was. Perhaps he was worse than her because had been watching Bruce age, but had refused to believe that his friend, his lover, would actually die. He always seemed so invincible; he was made out of something that was meant to stand against time rather than flash and bone. It was so easy to think of him as immortal, to forget that he would eventually die, that Clark had fooled himself into believing it.

He wouldn't tell Diana this though. He would keep it close to his heart. He actually thought that in time Diana would accept it and would be better prepared than he.

"We have time yet," he whispered.

And in time they'd still have each other.


End file.
